


Gortoz A Ran

by sassysatsuma



Series: Glocktober2018 [2]
Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, angst angst and more angst, directly after loose ends, just generally a lot of sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 17:50:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16180142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassysatsuma/pseuds/sassysatsuma
Summary: Far up in the mountains, snow is falling.It’s a contradiction, cold delicate flakes floating down onto scorched, charred earth. The ground is still too warm for them to stick and so instead they melt in an instant, disappearing into nothingness within the blink of an eye. With the snow comes a heavy blanket of quiet, a forced calm that encapsulates the world in silence. There’s barely any wind and precious little birdsong, only the soft crunch of boots against a thin blanket of snow.Everything that usually makes the snow so beautiful, only makes it more harrowing now.// For Day Two & Three of Glocktober2018 hosted by FYCO on tumblr.//





	Gortoz A Ran

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble deals with the aftermath of Loose Ends. It is not a happy affair at all.

Far up in the mountains, snow is falling.

It’s a contradiction, cold delicate flakes floating down onto scorched, charred earth. The ground is still too warm for them to stick and so instead they melt in an instant, disappearing into nothingness within the blink of an eye. With the snow comes a heavy blanket of quiet, a forced calm that encapsulates the world in silence. There’s barely any wind and precious little birdsong, only the soft crunch of boots against a thin blanket of snow.

Everything that usually makes the snow so beautiful, only makes it more harrowing now.

Archer’s walking, but he’s not sure footed. Instead, every step is hesitant, forced. The closer he comes to the scene before him the more his stomach churns. It’s loyalty that drives him on, dedication that presses his boots into the earth when in reality all he really wants is to turn tail and run.

He’s shaking, but it isn’t because of the cold.

He’s alone, Toad lying out of sight, hidden still in his Ghillie suit within the treeline behind him. He’s hurt, but that’s not why Archer left him behind. It may have been the excuse, but in reality Archer wanted to spare his partner this. It’s not right that this should be the last thing he remembers of his friends.

He can’t spare himself, but at least he can save Toad.

All too soon, he’s at the ditch, feet skittering to a halt as he takes in the full horror of what lies in front of him. Through the scope of a rifle, it had almost been as though he was watching Shepherd’s betrayal through disconnected eyes, too far away and helpless to help. He’d watched in hushed disbelief as Ghost fell to the floor to the echo of Shepherd’s gun, had barely breathed in the time it took Shepherd to turn the gun on Roach. A moment later and Archer’s finger had been poised on the trigger, his aim lined up perfectly to rid the traitorous bastard of his head when there’d been gunfire, this time directed at them. All at once, the world had devolved into a mad scramble for survival as he and Toad were chased further into the forest and away from their fallen friends.

Eventually, Shepherd had called off his Shadow Company dogs, although Archer had suffered no illusions that they were safe. Now, he’s still on edge, fully aware that returning to Ghost and Roach is exactly was Shepherd and his men would expect him to do. He’s half expecting a bullet even no, another reason to leave Toad back in safety.

There’s no sense in them both dying for one man’s compulsion.

And yet he can’t leave them like this.

He  _ **won’t.**_

The ground is tough as he digs, but at least it isn’t frozen, his tired arms making slow and steady progress. Constantly on alert, he works as fast as he’s able, although the light is fading, the setting orange sun throwing long shadows out across the ground. All the time, the snow keeps on falling, as relentless as him. Soon enough he’s soaked through, from the melting snow and his own sweat. He knows that he should stop, that the more light he loses, the colder it will get. But no matter how cold he feels or how much his muscles ache, he pushes on, knowing that if he chooses himself over them now, he’d never be able to live with himself anyway.  

Giving them a slither of the dignity Shepherd took from them is all that matters.

It’s easier to focus on the practicality of it all, a distraction that stops his grief from surfacing. He knows that he can’t hold it back forever, that it will bubble to the surface all too soon and he’ll be powerless to stop it. It’s hard enough to stay focused now, horrific images already burning their way into his mind’s eye. When he blinks he can see Ghost, his mask charred beyond all recognition. A split second later he sees Roach, his body lying prone on its belly, claw marks in the dirt where he’d tried in vain to haul himself to safety.

He knows that there will be no way to repress those memories.

Instead, he pats down the earth of the graves, fills them as best he is able with the failing light. He doesn’t bother in marking them, but the heavy weight of their dog tags dangle from his right hand, their cold metallic jingle ringing out into the air. At first he’d been of a mind to leave them on the freshly dug earth, as fitting a headstone as any he can give them. But now, when it’s finally come to say goodbye, he finds himself unable to let them go.

Finally his stagnant tears fall.  


End file.
